


Used to the Cold

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M, ambiguous loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus copes with loss in the only way that he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used to the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the angsty thing at severus_sighs on IJ. – The title was shamelessly stolen from the song Over You by Miranda Lambert. Many thanks to uniquepov for the beta work on this! Really, bb, I'd be lost without you.

Severus dropped his keys onto the rickety table beside the door as he stepped inside. The heel of his boot caught on the door and he kicked it closed, only to flinch at the _slam_ and _rattle_ of it in the frame. Straightening again, he adjusted the brown paper sacks in his arms and strode into the tiny kitchen, depositing his bags of groceries on the counter to begin unpacking them. His fingers lingered around a smaller bag tucked away in one of the others, fingering the neck of a bottle through a crumbled brown wrapping. After a brief hesitation, he snatched the bottle from the bag and quickly thrust it into the cupboard above the sink, pausing again when he heard it clink against another bottle already secreted away up there.

His hand trembled when he let it fall to his side again. A fresh bottle of whisky was already unpacked with his few other goods, and Severus considered it for a long moment before he forced himself to take one step back, and then another to leave the Firewhisky on the counter. Instead, he turned his back on what was left of his groceries and strode quickly out of the kitchen towards the sitting room. He circled around the sofa to light a fire in the grate, and sighed quietly as it flared to life and he felt the warmth on his skin. Severus lingered beside the fire for several long minutes before he turned and his steps stumbled when his gaze wandered towards the low table in front of the sofa.

A tattered and worn old paperback sat innocuously on the table, in the same place it had been for the past few months. Unmoved. Untouched. Gathering a thin layer of dust that Severus could never bring himself to clean away on the few occasions he managed to force himself to wipe down the rest of the table. A tumbler sat beside it, the ice that had once been inside melted long ago and leaving the water lightly tinged with old brandy and left to stagnate. Severus swallowed and tore his gaze away as he continued to his worn leather chair and dropped himself heavily down onto the seat.

He'd kept everything of _his_ exactly as it had been that final night. The tumbler. The book. The liquor cabinet full of brandy that Severus continued to stock weekly, despite the fact that not one bottle had been touched since...

Even the sheets on the left side of the bed remained untouched, with Severus resorting to simply casting a series of cleaning and freshening charms to the sheets to avoid disturbing the rumpled mess that _he_ had made on his side.

With a weary sigh, Severus slipped his wand from a pocket and gave in to temptation, Summoning a small tumbler of ice and his bottle of whisky from the kitchen. He poured a generous measure into the glass and took a long sip, nearly draining the drink entirely before he pulled it away from his lips and took a breath. Immediately, warmth began spreading through his body, easing the bitter chill in his bones that the fire couldn't seem to take away – the chill that had set in once he learned that _he_ wasn't coming back – and Severus topped up the glass without hesitation as he settled further into his chair.

He drained the newly-filled glass while the whisky was still fairly warm, despite the ice in the glass, and topped it up yet again. Severus' gaze drifted back to the book, and his mind to the fresh bottle of brandy he'd stashed away while putting up the groceries. Any more, and he'd never get the cupboard to shut, but he couldn't seem to stop buying one with each trip he made, the habit had become so ingrained. And somehow, the idea of no longer bringing a bottle home with the weekly groceries seemed too much like an acquiescence that he was not yet ready to give.

Closing his eyes, Severus tipped his head against the back of his chair and drained the glass dry, and the creeping chill threatening to overtake him again slid back just a little more. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze settled once more on the glass still resting on the coffee table, and before he realized what he was doing, Severus had set down his own glass and risen to his feet. He crossed to the table and plucked up the glass, carrying it with him into the kitchen and turning it up over the sink.

Severus twisted the taps and ran the glass beneath the stream of hot water that poured out from the faucet for a moment before he reached for the sponge. He washed the glass with loving care, drying it carefully when he was finished, and then set it down onto the counter. The clink of ice against the sides of the glass rang in his ears as he moved, almost in a haze, to pull open the cabinet above the sink. He reached in, past the fresh bottle of brandy he'd placed there not long before, to wrap his long fingers around the neck of an already opened bottle at the very back.

The cap of it stuck for a moment before Severus managed to twist it off and he poured a few fingers into the glass, listening to the _pop_ and _crack_ of the ice as the brandy washed over it. Taking a ragged breath, Severus replaced the bottle in the cupboard and carefully cradled the glass in his hands as he carried it out into the sitting room. He circled around the sofa to stand between it and the table, bending down to set the glass back exactly where it had been when he'd taken it away, and as he straightened, he felt a tear rolling down over his cheek.

Sucking in another unsteady breath, Severus quickly moved away, snatching up his whisky by the neck of the bottle and striding towards the stairs with it in hand. He paused for a long moment halfway up the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other gripping his bottle tightly as he turned and glanced down at the sitting room one last time.

"Goodnight," he whispered to the empty house, his voice wavering and cracking, and then he turned away again and took the final few steps up to the landing. His feet carried him down the hallway to the bedroom of their own accord, and with a strangled sound, Severus dropped himself onto the bed and clutched his bottle and the spare pillow close in his arms, taking a careful swig straight from the bottle before he closed his eyes.

_'Goodnight, Severus...'_


End file.
